


A Long Way From Home

by AL13



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Cheating, M/M, Slow Burn, i think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 10:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9435179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AL13/pseuds/AL13
Summary: Three years ago, Ian Gallagher met a feisty British girl named Felicia. Now, Ian is twenty-two, with a sturdy job as a bouncer, and Felicia is getting married?





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I've decided to attempt to write a chaptered fic again, even though it hasn't worked out in the past. I know exactly what's going to happen though, I just have to actually write it.

            Felicia’s hand was flung in front of her, the diamond on her finger glinting with the sunlight beaming through the window and reflecting off it. Ian dug into the depths of his memory, for any recollection of a boyfriend, but he found none. He’d known the fiery auburn haired girl for three years – their first meeting definitely left them a story to tell. Despite the length of their friendship, Ian could only remember Felicia single, even last night she’d been eagerly grinding against some guy. “Oi, don’t be thinking too hard there.” She spoke with a thick British accent; she’d only moved to the states three years ago, shortly before meeting Ian, and she did nothing to cover her origins.

            “You’re just telling me about this now!” Ian seized her left hand, eyes glazing over the rock that took up half of her finger. Felicia had been a mysterious woman from the beginning, and had no problem constantly throwing him for a loop.

            “He only proposed this morning. Sorry I decided to have celebratory sex with my fiancé to before telling your sorry ass.” Felicia yanked back her hand, flashing one more adoring smile at her ring finger before shoving it into the pocket of her black romper. “Oh come on, I’ve told you about Mickey, dark and handsome. Haven’t I?” Felicia threw a gob smacked hand to her forehead and her face flushed. “Ey Ian, forgot to tell you, there’s this bloke I’ve been seein.”

            “Well jeez Felicia, surprised you didn’t wait until I was walking you down the aisle.” Ian had always been one to tell her about his latest fling, however he’s pretty sure she stopped paying attention at guy number 5, and that had only been a month in. He used to believe every guy would be the one, but after a harsh break up with a guy he’d dated for a year, he jumped off that train.

            “Who says you’re givin me away?” She put on a serious face, arms crossing across her chest in dismay, but they both knew that unless she was having the wedding in London, Ian was the only one that fit the job. Felicia’s mom had passed years ago, and her dad was barely hanging on since then, cancer eating away at his lungs. Her only brother stuck around to care for their father, while she’d run away at 16, and only went back for her mother’s funeral – he hated her. “I wanted to wait till it got serious. It got serious, then I forgot.”

            “Probably a few too many lines of coke. I told you that shit isn’t good for you.” Ian tutted at his best friend – she was a party girl, but Ian figured out how to maneuver around it. He always let her do her thing, and did a good job at standing up to peer pressure. He had a lot more restraint than his older brother Lip, who was 24 and already a raging alcoholic – he couldn’t get past noon without a beer. Ian was past his party days, and had enough on his plate these days without the booze and drugs plaguing him.

            “Good thing my fiancé don’t care how dumb I am. He loves me regardless.” Felicia flashed her ring again, if only so she could stare longingly at it, as if the man who’d given it to her would appear upon her wishes. “Tomorrow,” she pointed adamantly at Ian. “You’re taking me out for a celebratory drink.”

            “It’ll have to be an early drink. I go in at five, won’t be off until well after midnight.” Ian’s work hours were shit, and the job mundane. He crossed his arms all night as he worked as an intimidation technique at the fairytale, a gay club in Boys town. That’s how he’d met Felicia, a rowdy patron who was way too drunk, and he hadn’t taken a single step up the latter in three years. At least he still have a steady flow of cock, his one remaining vice – he’d even given up cigarettes along the way, allowing his lungs a break from nicotine and weed.

            “Pick me up at two for an afternoon cocktail.” Felicia shook his hand as if that were normal behavior – what, were they setting up some sort of business deal – the two friends had always been more of huggers. “Tonight, it’s back to my fiancé, so you’ll have to party hard without me.” For Ian, that meant one beer in the privacy of his crappy apartment in the heart of Chicago, streaming Netflix through the night.

~

            “So, you have to tell me about this guy. I think you owe me that much.” They had been at the bar for all but ten minutes, with Felicia trying to distract him with crazy coworker stories – she worked at a board game store. The girl was already sipping her way through her second glass of whiskey, while Ian had taken a few sips from his Coca-Cola. The bartender had given him a dirty look when he turned down even a beer with minimal alcohol content. He was ready to find it a maddening bar like in the movie _Coyote Ugly_ that would spray him down with water for his choice. “Come on, what’s his name again?”

            “Mickey,” Felicia said with a slap on his shoulder. “He’s the one.” She had always claimed not to believe in love, always cynical about the future, which likely explained why she’d kept this quiet. Boyfriends had only fucked her over in the past. “He’s fucking short, only an inch taller than me, but he never complains when I wear heals. He’s got these stupid tattoos on his knuckles, but somehow I find them endearing.” She went on, and Ian admired the look of love glowing from his best friend. He used to dream about something like that for himself, before he learned that no one would really care about a lunatic. He thought he’d had _it_ with Jacob, but a year into their relationships, and Ian’s meds went haywire, and he was committed for a week. He returned to an empty apartment.

            “I think I’ll ask his sister Mandy to be my Maid of Honor. She’s a kickin girl. Maybe you can be a bridesmaid! We’ll deck you out in a pink frilly dress.” Ian rolled his eyes, because no matter how gay he was, he wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. “We’ll make you look so good, Mickey might even take his eyes off me and find you so attractive he leaves me at the altar.” Felicia’s hand fell to her forehead dramatically, tilting back a bit to add onto her hysterics. “Whatever shall I do?”

            Ian waved his hands in refusal. “I don’t want your straight fiancés affection.” There were enough guys that wanted to fuck him not dressed as a girl. He didn’t need to dress in drag to attract men’s attention – oddly enough, gay guys still seemed to dig that.

            “Whatever. You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s got a great cock. He’d tear your ass apart.”

            “Oh come on, I don’t need to hear about your sex life. Now I’ll be staring at his dick when I meet him.” They both knew that Ian was a top, not gold star, he’d fucked around more than he wanted to admit sometimes, but straight cock in his ass was repulsive. For all the guys Felicia never told him about, Ian told her in gory detail about the guys he’d fucked – she was the only person he ran to when he bottomed for the first time without getting paid for it. She always drowned him out with alcohol.

            “Who says you’re meetin him? You ain’t even invited to the wedding Ian Gallagher.” Felicia waved to the bartender for a refill on both of their drinks, even though he wasn’t quite halfway through his soda. “Fine!” She cried as if Ian had been begging her for the last second of silence and tossed her hands up in defeat. “You can meet him. But no acting all high and mighty just cause you can attract classier guys than me.” This fiancé of hers was Southside, one of the few things he managed to catch while absently watching her lips move. Ian had been born and raised in the Southside of Chicago, but ran and didn’t look back much after he joined the military at 18 – even if that hadn’t worked out for him.

            “Oh come on. That’s a low blow. Just because I hate my family doesn’t mean everyone from the neighborhood is like them.” Ian was 23, not some baby that didn’t understand how the world worked. He had his qualms with his family, but kept it between them. Felicia knew as little as he could get away with telling her about the other five Gallagher kids, and the only thing she knew about the deadbeat parents, was that Monica was dead. “I’m sure he’s a great guy.” He better have been good to Felicia, because she never deserved an asshole for a husband.

            “I’ll set something up when he ain’t working. He works construction; it’s fucking shitty, but as least he makes money.” Ian understood; before he’d gotten the job as a bouncer, he’d sifted through some pathetic jobs that paid the bills, and allowed him to live as far away from his siblings as he could. He hadn’t wanted to chance running into them after he’d left for good when he was 19, upon his diagnosis of bipolar disorder. They looked at him the way they looked at their mom – he was fucking insane.

            “Mickey will hate you. He thinks straight edge guys like you are pussies. Guess he’s not exactly wrong, with you at least.” Felicia knew better than that. Ian had a lot of demons that followed him, but mostly his mental illness; it made him weak in too many ways. It stopped him from partying along with his best friend, and left him home most nights. “We’ll have to get you to help with the wedding, god knows I don’t know shit.”

            “And I do?”

            “Duh, you’re gay.” Ian had never been a stereotypical gay man, but that didn’t make him any less of a fag. He’d never fucking paint his nails, or wear make-up. Ian would rather spend a day bulking up at the gym; all this after hiding his sexuality for a good chunk of his life. In the Southside, with all the uneducated bigots, racists, and homophobes, it was a death sentence for a gay man to even walk down the street.

            “Hey, shut your face. You’re on your own with the wedding. I’m just showing up to make sure you don’t trip on your dress. Wouldn’t want to make a fool of yourself on your wedding day, in front of your husband to be.” Ian finally managed to finish off his coke and put down money for both of their drinks. “Good talk. Can’t wait to meet the guy that puts that smile on your face.” He hugged her tightly as a formal goodbye, and headed out into the burning Chicago cold. Felicia headed in the opposite direction of him, towards her parked beat up old Chevy, and Ian followed his path to his apartment.

~

            Ian’s shift was halfway over, and he was exhausted from standing around; at least he didn’t have to make a fool of himself, dancing around in boot shorts. He had almost taken a job as a dancer, but his strong build got him the security job instead. It was for the best; as far as he could tell most of the dancers were constantly fucked up on any drug one of the patrons gave them, and it often led to prostitution. There’d been a time when he would have loved that life – when he’d _had_ that life – but he’d been lost back then, seventeen and spiraling out of control.

            He looked over to Felicia, nestled at a table with a cluster of girls. She was there nearly every time Ian worked; that was where they’d met after all. Felicia had been drunk and tugged at another girls hair with misplaced anger, neither one remember the fight anymore – Ian had been responsible for escorting her wasted ass out. The dumb bitch came back the next day. It had now been a week since the engagement, and he hadn’t heard a word about Mickey again.

            Arms were flung around him, and a very drunk Felicia slurred nonsense into his ear. She’d snuck up on him while he was distracted by a small commotion near the bar – seemed someone else was already settling the problem. He couldn’t help but wonder what her fiancé would think, seeing her in a drunken state. “Blue eyes…love ‘is eyes,” she murmured, lips brushing against his ear.

            “Maybe you should be with your fiancé, instead of distracting me at my job.” Ian had never really minded Felicia’s company while he worked, but sometimes her hanging off his arm prevented him from doing anything productive. He didn’t look too intimidating with a short drunk girl talking circles around him. His boss wasn’t as eager to welcome her weekly presence in the club. For a group of straight girls in a gay club, they got in a lot of shit, and were kicked to the curb every other week. Ian pulled a lot of strings to get them allowed back in time and time again.

            A pout smoothly formed across Felicia’s lips, and she fell slack against Ian’s back. “He’s too busy fillin’ potholes to fuck me. That ain’t fair. He outta quit that stupid job an’ stay home with me.” Between the slurred words and her accent, Ian found it harder and harder to catch what she was saying.

            “A jobs a job. I don’t love working here, but I still do it.” He forced Felicia’s weight from him and pointed towards her table.

            “But your jobs perfect. Unlimited amount of hot guys around you all day.” Felicia stumbled backwards, landing flat on her ass, hands mingling on the splashes of booze making their floor sticky. A friend let her crawl for a bit, before taking pity and collecting her stumbling body. “I think…” she interrupted herself with an obnoxious hiccup. “I think I outta get home; wait around like a dutiful wife for ‘im to tell me he’s home safe.”

            Ian’s eyes fell past her, and settled on the tall blonde girl gripping her elbow – he didn’t know the friends Felicia went clubbing with, never had an interest in learning their names, but someone was always making sure she got home okay. Each time, another girl volunteering herself to care for the drunken girl. Ian’s eyes met with the blondes’, and made a silent agreement that Felicia would be fine.

            “You go sleep this off, I’ll come by in the afternoon; assure you haven’t died from the hangover you’re going to have.”

            “Aye-Aye Captain!” Felicia came to attention, paying extra attention to lining up her legs, and bounced two fingers off her forehead in salute, before she was dragged off willingly from the club.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy. Got this up quick, cause I already had it written. Gonna be a few days before more gets put up.

            Ian was home when Felicia called him Wednesday – they hardly texted, aside from a few casual daily greetings. They both despised the impersonal aspect of sending a few emotionless words, even if they both found it more convenient at times. He’d ordered himself a peperoni pizza for lunch, and was streaming _The Twilight Zone_ on Netflix. He didn’t mind so much the interruption, seeing as he’d spent his last two days off holed up in his apartment, with only a few measly texts from Felicia and his sister Fiona to keep him company. Ian was a mess, not having picked up the empty pizza boxes, and the soda’s he’d had them bring along. It was the usual routine he went through when Felicia was busy and he couldn’t get ahold of one of his acquaintances he kept in contact with for when the loneliness kicked in.

            “If it isn’t my favorite loner ginger,” her voice sang loudly through the receiver. “Wish I could join ya, but I think I’d rather not get sucked into a world of pathetic sadness. Plus, I got my own job Ian Gallagher. Just because you’ve got the night off doesn’t mean everyone else’s life freezes for his majesty. They would never survive without me, I’m a lot more than just muscle you know; all them idiot nerds don’t know shit about games.” Felicia practically ran her own game store, and had talked for months about buying out the owner, who was itching to sell. Except, she wasn’t willing to carry full responsibility, and made sure the store was fully staffed so it wasn’t always on her.

            “So did you just call to rub it in? You’re having a wonderful night with a job that makes you impossibly happy, while I cry over my TV.” While he hadn’t shed a tear over _The Twilight Zone_ , he definitely would when he switched over to _The Walking Dead_. Pointless TV shows were his last resort to fill the void in his life – Felicia now had it all, job, best friend, and a fiancé that was lucky to have her.

            “Yes, because I love knowing you’re miserable Ian.” He could hear the eye roll in her voice, seeping smoothly off her tongue. “I’m actually _not_ a cold-hearted bitch, and I feel very terrible for leaving you on your lonesome tonight.” She always had a flare for the dramatics; should have been an actress, rather than an aspiring game store owner, nerding out with customers over D and D, and toy trains. “Okay okay, down to business ginger. Mickey’s just finishing up the deadly pothole project, and next Friday is his first Friday off in what feels like _months_. Was thinking we could take you out for a well overdue drink, and I’ll quit hiding you from my fiancé. What do you say?”

            Ian had stuffed the last slice of pizza in his mouth when Felicia had begun her spiel. They’d have phone calls last for hours, with Ian only getting about five minutes of his own voice in, between her narcissistic ass. “Yeah,” he acknowledged around the cheesy slice. “Fuck, I’ll just find someone to take my shift, and it’s a date. Maybe I’ll be able to charm him after all, without a dress.”

            “Just don’t fall in love with him. I know he’s dreamy, and I’m sure his cock would even please a top like you. But, he wouldn’t choose you in a million years, and I don’t fancy seeing my best friend broken hearted over my husband. I’m the love of his life, you know.” Ian did know, because Felicia had told him over and over all the charming things Mickey said to her. Ian was already in love with the guy for taking proper care of the girl – Ian had been sure they were going to have to make one of those ‘if we’re not married in ten years, we’ll marry each other’ pacts, if Mickey hadn’t shown up in the nick of time.

            “Don’t think I’m capable of attracting my own guys? Guys that are actually gay, mind you, and like it up the ass.” Ian hadn’t tried relationships in the last year, because his lunacy was a mood killer for ninety-nine percent of the guys he met. Monica had gone through relationship like they were nothing, but always falling more and more in love. She never cared how confusing it was for her kids when she left for months, then came back sprouting love for someone that wasn’t their father – not like they’d ever loved each other. The six kids had never had a grand example of what love was – like the fact that Ian learned at fifteen that his real father was Frank’s brother. He’d gotten sick of roping in dozens of guys, like his older sister who couldn’t be single for more than two minutes – she’d been married and divorced three times by the age of 30. “I can’t wait to meet this charming man.”

            Ian glared at his TV as it flashed the message ‘connection lost’. The people in the neighboring apartment were willing to share their Wi-Fi password with him, and while that meant free internet, it also meant the world’s shittiest connection. Ian fiddled around with the controls in attempt to bring Netflix back up, but found it a lost cause pretty quickly.

            “Okay, well, Joe’s glarin’ at me for all these personal calls on company time. I’ll see ya next Friday! Text ya with the details.” If he’d realized she’d called while on the job, he would’ve tried to cut out some unnecessary banter. He wasn’t sure that would have been possible regardless.

            The phone clicked off before Ian could iterate a proper goodbye. The call had lasted twenty minutes, on the short side for them. Their longest call had lasted thirty-six hours – it was the winter of ’14, Felicia had been home sick, and Ian was stuck snowed in to his apartment; there’d been nothing better to do, and they’d even stayed on the line throughout the night.

            The end of the phone call brought Ian back to his living room, and without the distraction of Netflix, there was nothing to do but clean up after himself. When Ian drifted into a depressive phase, he would keep the shades drawn, swallowing himself in darkness, he’d eat canned food, and succumb to the temptation to nick himself with the sharp lid of the can. There was a big difference to his downs, and simply letting himself go when work didn’t force him to keep moving. He’d been relatively sane for the past six months, and Felicia was always there to drag him from his room when things looked bad – she always knew, because he wouldn’t answer his phone during those times, it would be shut off, and the club would call Felicia. His boss was aware of the situation, and she was his emergency contact for everything.

            Ian was no neat freak, except maybe he was, because he could hardly stand leaving the dishes undone for twenty-four hours. And when he couldn’t sleep sometimes, he’d run the vacuum over the carpet until his arm couldn’t push it anymore – his therapist said cleaning was a coping technique.

            As soon as sound blared form his TV again, Ian abandoned the plate he’d been scrubbing and allowed the pizza boxes to remain stacked on the counter. He naturally drifted back to his tattered blue couch, with the blanket Lip had knitted him in the early stages of getting sober. Ian had about ten blankets stacked in his closet, along with some ugly scarves he only wore when Lip was around. Ian wasn’t the only Gallagher with a collection like that, but at least it worked. Every Gallagher had their vice to keep them sane – Fiona smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, to deal with managing the diner she owned, Debbie rearranged something in her house at least once a week, and Carl kept his military uniform in exquisite shape. Ian had them all topped with weird antics, because his list never ended.

            Ian used his PlayStation remote to change to the _The Walking Dead_ , aiming to hightail his way through season five that night.

~

            Felicia and Ian hid together in a dimly lit corner booth, both drinking a beer, albeit Ian was a lot more cautious with his beverage. The brit had insisted they go to a steakhouse, and fill up on a twenty-five ounce steak, and one of each of the deserts for the three of them to split. The best friends saved eating out for special occasions, so that when they did, their bill was well over one hundred dollars, accompanied with a twenty dollar tip. It was just like when he was a kid, and Fiona would run into a bit of extra cash – usually they stuck with buffets. The restaurant was far from fancy, but it was their go-to place, and a couple waitresses recognized them – they only went about four times a year, but they’d been doing so for three years now, and the staff seemed pretty consistent. The booth they sat in was busting apart at the seams, and Ian pressed himself to the wall to avoid sitting on the slash across the middle of his side.

            “So, is Mickey just imaginary?” Ian pointed to the empty spot beside Felicia, and the third, untouched menu. They’d waited an hour, and his best friend insisted they wait to order, because he promised he’d come, and Felicia still had faith in him. So Ian filled up on the bread the waitress kept bringing by, and finally ordered himself something other than water. He’d done his best at attempting to not point out Mickey’s obvious tardiness, but Ian was getting a horrible impression of the guy.

            “He’s jus’ runnin’ late. He’ll come!” She was adamant about it, and Ian had no choice but to shut up and sit back with his nearly wasted friend. Felicia was moping, but refused to lose hope on her fiancé, and ordered herself another drink every time the waitress came back. There was a full glass of beer at the seat beside her that she’d ordered along with her first drink, but she left it, because he was fucking coming. Felicia pulled out her phone as her mope broke out into a fattening grin. “He’s jus’ parked. I told ya ‘e was comin’.” He was relieved to be wrong.

            Ian hadn’t even seen a picture of the guy, so he hadn’t realized it was Mickey headed their way, until he slid in beside Felicia. His arm fell over her shoulder, and Ian recognized the knuckle tattoos, the only physical attribute she’d given him – this hand read _fuck_. Their lips slotted together in a brief greeting, and Felicia followed it with a hard punch to the shoulder. “That’s for bein’ late dickhead.”

            “Fucking bitch.” There was a small amount of scruff on Mickey’s chin, and his mop of hair was black, with a hint of something lighter there, and those eyes were a stunning shade of blue – Felicia’s dreamy talk hadn’t done them justice. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly and ran his thumb over her cheek. He spared a glance across the table to Ian, directing his apology to the both of them. Mickey kept his right arm securely around Felicia’s shoulders, but reached his left out for Ian to shake. _U-Up_ was scrawled across the four fingers in the same unsteady spray of unprofessional ink. “You must be Ian. This one talks about you a lot.”

            The handshake was strong, but not threatening, like he’d gotten from other guys when he’d befriended their girlfriends – if Ian was straight, he wouldn’t have a hard time stealing someone’s girl, the amount of times he’d gotten punched assured that. A lot of guys were so insecure they were threatened by Ian of all people. “You’re Mickey,” the redhead pointed out. “Can’t say I knew much about you before, but she’s talked non-stop these last few weeks.”

            “I wasn’t sure she’d ever let me meet you. So, what is it? You don’t seem like someone she should be hiding.” Mickey didn’t comment on the warmth of the beer when he picked it up, and finished it in a few long gulps, slamming it harshly back to the table and motioning his finger at someone walking by for another. Pothole duty must have really done a number on him. “I thought _my_ family was crazy, but this girl’s just batshit insane.”

            They put their orders in five minutes later, and another round of bread was brought around to their table. Ian laid off this time, but Mickey was quick to slather butter on a slice and shoved it down. “This bitch packed me an apple for lunch, can you believe that? How is that supposed to stop my stomach rumbling while I pour concrete into holes? I’d get it if she was a health nut, but an apple is like two fucking calories and no protein. I’m 180 pounds of muscle, not some anorexic bitch.”

            “If you wanted a cook, you shouldn’t be marrying her.” Felicia had tried to make Ian a can of soup one time when he was low – she hadn’t realized that it was a lot different than the flu at the time. She got him moving pretty quickly when his microwave exploded; she’d tried to heat it up, can and all. “She’s also a slob. Glad it’s you she’s marrying and not me.”

            “Doesn’t sound like you swing that way anyways.” Felicia had always mouthed off about how much a fag Ian was, which usually led to her attempting to set Ian up on dates. He wondered if Mickey had almost been the culprit of the setup, before she realized he was straight and falling head over heels for her. “Must’ve been hard. Southside ain’t the breeding ground for pride parades.” Ian wondered what had been done right for someone that was so obviously dragged deeply into the drugs and violence of that neighborhood, to turn into a guy that could casually sit across from Ian. He still didn’t feel safe walking in his own neighborhood without a knife in his pocket – everyone knew that the redheaded Gallagher was batshit crazy and gay, because the drunks liked to talk, especially Frank.

            “Did you get out?” Ian wasn’t doing much better than his siblings, but he could at least say he managed to move a few blocks away, and officially out of the Southside, even if his roots were still bred in his bones. He avoided that old rickety house on North Wallace, and the memories that dragged him down. The last time he’d gone home was when their mom died last year, otherwise he made everyone come to him.

            “Kind of. Spend a lot of time back there. My little sister’s still there, with our older brother, but I don’t really live there.” Ian recognized the pain their upbringing instilled on everyone, and they could easily swap war stories. They could decide whose parents were worse – he knew Frank and Monica were tame compared to others, even with both of them fucking off all the time, the drugs, and the bruises Frank occasionally gave Ian. “Of course, this girl had her life set with a rich daddy in London.”

            “My father’s money doesn’t say shit about me,” Felicia quipped – she’d never gotten a penny. Each person at the booth was equally broke, despite her background. Felicia had run off at sixteen, and had only seen her father a handful of times since. “In fact, think we might have to dine and dash.” They’d done it once, but Ian had felt so guilty, that he’d gone back and left a hundred dollar bill on the hosts’ podium, because he’d had the money to pay. It was a lot different from when he was ten, and Frank and Monica took the five kids they had at the time to some fancy restaurant. Their mom had just come back, after she’d left five years ago, and the group of them obviously didn’t belong – should’ve been kicked out right away for their appearance, because they were definitely too poor to afford it. Frank had ushered him, Lip, and their five year old brother Carl through a window in the men’s restroom, while Monica had done the same with the two girls.

            “Need I remind you, the cops hate me enough,” Mickey announced, easily dismissing Felicia’s possibly serious idea. “Southside, man. The Milkovich name is akin for trouble.” The last named sparked familiarity in Ian, not that he could remember any of them, except maybe the father.

            “Any relation to, uh…Jerry?”

            “Terry,” Mickey nodded. “Afraid to say I’m his blood. He’s my father.” Ian didn’t remember much about the guy, but he’d caught him hanging around the Alibi a time or two, and Frank slurred about plenty of their fights Monica might have fucked him too. Kev told horror stories about the different shenanigans the Milkovich patrons had gotten into, none of them the innocent childish type.

            “Seems like a handful,” Ian nodded in sympathy, but didn’t spill into the dramatics about their asshole fathers. Frank was a pathetic drunk that left his oldest daughter to raise five kids, and Ian would never forgive him. Even if Ian had found out that his biological father was one of Frank’s brothers, rich and everything, the real dream for anyone that grew up like them. Ian had learned of this when he was fifteen, and much to Lip’s dismay, he refused to confront his father, because he already had his family. Ian Gallagher was never one to take the easy way out. “So, you were unlucky enough to fall for Felicia,” Ian commented with a breathy chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

            “Couldn’t ask for a better girl to spend my life with.” Mickey’s right arm had still been comfortably around Felicia’s shoulders, and he squeezed her close as he gushed about her. “I’ve lived with a girl like this one all my life. Guess it was just a test run, so I was ready for the real thing. Fucking destiny or whatever.” Mickey seemed genuinely happy, and it shown in the way his smile sparkled in those ocean blue eyes, and his face split as he let out gentle laughs. Everything told Ian that that was the kind of relationship he’d been dreaming of since he’d understood what it meant to be in love. He was glad Felicia was getting her fairytale ending.

            The arrival of the food halted conversation, as the couple seemed starved. Ian had made the mistake of filling up on the complimentary bread, and instead pushed his food around while participating in the conversation between bites. He laughed along with the jokes, and hung off Mickey’s childhood stories, sharing some stupid comments of his own. Nothing was really serious at the table. Ian knew as soon as Mickey stepped in, the dynamic between them would be changed, and they’d now be a trio. It wasn’t something he was ready to give up.

~

            Another week went by with the usual routine; Felicia hung out at the club whenever she could to make Ian’s forty hour work week bearable. The rest of the time, she fucked off to work, or Mickey, and Ian was left to his own company. He frequented the YMCA that was hidden among the tall buildings that blended together after a while – it was about a mile from his shitty neighborhood, and amongst the richer area. He would spend hours on the treadmill – he used to get up at six every morning for a run, when he still lived on the Southside. Now, he slept in until noon, and swallowed down a healthy breakfast, followed by a quick jog down the crowded streets – it was that time of the day when everyone was heading to lunch.

            Ian managed to find normalcy in his routine, working Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday, five to three nearly every week – the schedule varied on occasion, when other bouncer’s availability differed. Nobody had thought it was the proper way for someone managing bipolar disorder, but he had more restraint than his family allowed themselves to believe. Netflix was his newest obsession, and filled the void on his nights off. He'd already binged too many shows, and had a long list he was anxiously awaiting the next season. At least he wasn’t so pathetic that he was shacking up in his parent’s basement – if he had a decent father, the idea wouldn’t be as sick.

            Apart from the time spent together at the club, in which Felicia had always been shitfaced, they’d kept talking to a minimum. He’d gotten a text explaining that someone had quit, and she was the only person willing to cover those lost hours. It left Ian a lot lonelier than usual, and he was more than eager when he received the text from an unknown caller.

            _UNKNOWN_

_It’s Mickey. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your number off Felicia’s contacts. She’s left me stranded tonight, and I was wondering if you might want to get to know each other more over a drink._

               It took all of five minutes for them to set up a bar for them to meet at – Ian hated texting, but he was still quick to tap out his responses, unlike his best friend. Even with Felicia always mumbling about her fiancé, she’d failed to actually give him any information he could use – it was mostly detailed accounts of his eyes. Ian couldn’t help but fall in love this those eyes, and decided his dream man would have the same eyes – he was a dream, so what did it matter.

               The bar – Nowhere Bar – was near Ian’s place, and the pair of joggers he wore made for unrestricted strides along the concrete. Ian had always believed taxis were a waste of money, and he wasn’t going to take the ‘L’ train unless he was going across town. The sun had begun to set – July twenty-first, the longest day of the year had passed months ago, and the sun just kept setting earlier. Winter would be settling in in under a month, but the breeze remained warm, and Ian left his apartment only with the protection of his long-sleeved Henley top.

               The first thing Ian noticed about the bar, was that the patrons were no different than the Alibi Room, which was owned by his neighbors Kev and V. It seemed to attract a bit more business, including a few hipster looking young adults, but everyone sidled up at the bar looked like an old homeless drunk. The lighting was better, and there was no layer of smoke obstructing his sight, and billowing them in a haze – the prominent ‘ _no smoking_ ’ sign must have been the cause. Ian spotted Mickey at a high top table, two beers already set out for them. Mickey gave Ian a nod as he slid onto the barstool. “Sorry to drag you out, but Felicia’s working late. I finally get some time off, and she’s never around.”

               “Someday she’s actually gonna buy that place, and you’ll never see her again,” Ian joked. A pile of beef nachos slathered in cheese sauce were settled between them, and Ian wasn’t afraid to swallow down a handful, having settled on the healthy option of a salad for dinner before he’d left his apartment. He’d soon need a water to accompany the beer he probably shouldn’t drink.

               “Ah fuck, don’t say that.” Mickey rested his head against his fist and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “My older brother Iggy works there, but the bastard refuses to take any of her shifts. Just because he’s got his own girl, and a six month old baby.” Mickey had downed half his beer, and an empty shot glass sat at the edge of the round table, teetering a bit too close. “I don’t care what they say, family ain’t good for shit.” The Gallagher’s had always been there for each other, but when Ian got sick and disappeared, he realized Fiona and Lip were pretty selfish. His older sister had always seemed like the selfless type, giving up her life to care for her siblings – she didn’t have to do any of it. “Can I get you something stronger? Don’t need to get shitfaced, but it’s a Friday night, we deserve to take the edge off.”

               “No no,” Ian politely declined – ever since he’d gotten his disorder under wraps, he hadn’t given into peer pressure. “Beer is fine. I’ve got other ways to let off my steam.” Mickey didn’t push on it, and Ian was more than thankful – Felicia had tried to force drinks down his throat in the beginning stages of their friendship, before she really understood. “But don’t let me stop you, I’m not gonna kill your party. Bad week?”

               “Fuck man, don’t get me started. The pay is amazing when I get work, but I haven’t had much work this week. I’ve got bills to pay and a girl to keep up with.” Ian never understood buying girls shiny things – Felicia didn’t need any of that, and even her best friend refused to spoil her. “Plus, part of my check goes to Iggy and Mandy, because they both work jobs with shit pay. Fucking family.” Ian used to understand that, but he’d distanced himself to work on himself instead – his siblings were doing the same thing, and everyone would succeed on their own.

               “Yeah. So, you come here a lot?” It was stupid and cheesy, but the subject of family was too much. Ian mostly kept away from places that reminded him of home, and frequented the club he worked at, with bright flashing lights, that screamed Northside.

               “Yeah, I live next door, so it’s pretty convenient.” The neighborhood looked pretty run down, but the apartments didn’t look any worse than the four story complex the redhead lived in. “You live nearby? Hope I didn’t make you travel too far.”

               “No. Just a few blocks away. You know Kosciuszko Park? I live across the street.”

               “Crazy. Small world and all that bullshit. At least the proximity will give us an excuse to hang out. I need friends that _aren’t_ related to me, and that I’m not marrying.” Ian’s friends were few and far between, but he was the kind of person that kept easily disposable people around so he was never alone. He’d talked it through a lot with his therapist, and his biggest fear in life was being abandoned.

               “Good to have friends around.” Ian rubbed his palms along his joggers, and fell into comfortable conversation with Mickey. They didn’t go into much detail about their lives – Ian never opened up to people quickly, he’d known Felicia for months before he told her anything about himself, aside from petty shit like his favorite color. Mickey seemed to be the same, because living in the Southside really brought up the walls. Ian wanted to break them down, he just wasn’t sure how it might go. If they were going to be real friends, both of them needed to admit things to each other.

               Their night ended with Mickey departing next door, and Ian travelling home in the dark. It was a lot chillier out, and Mickey had invited him over to his apartment, but he felt that home was his best option for now. At least until he really knew the guy.


	3. Part 3

            Poker night became a thing, upon Felicia’s persistence for them to all get together without going out. It was only the second week of their new tradition, the previous week starting at Felicia’s place. This week it was moved to Mickey’s apartment. The two had spent time at Nowhere Bar once since that first time, but for the most part, everyone stuck to their own schedules – Mickey’s job was picking back up, and Felicia was still picking up the slack at work. Ian chose once more to walk towards Mickey’s place, even with the weather continuing to chill. Ian preferred to walk, because then the only thing he relied on was himself, not some piece of shit car, or faulty bus schedule, or the L train that always seemed to have troubles when he rode it. It was the beginning of November, and Ian loved the brief amount of fall they got before the harsh Chicago winter would strike.

            Mickey’s apartment building currently housed only four other tenants, and was definitely a small building, with only two stories. The apartment itself consisted of one bedroom and bathroom, and he had just enough room in the living room to set up a poker table. Ian would once again be abstaining from alcohol, but the couple would surely drink enough to make up for his sobriety. Ian would partake in the obligatory cigar, because refusing was grounds for getting kicked out – everyone knew you didn’t turn down a cigar. He’d considered on multiple accounts since he quit smoking to start vaping, but either habit was currently too pricey for him.

            Mickey had a small TV, which could only be about 32” perched on a TV tray. It appeared to be hooked up to cable, but there was no PlayStation or Blu-ray player for him to connect to Netflix – how did this man live? Right, he was actually sane. Felicia had also complained about the lack of wi-fi – Ian was spoiled with what he had at his own apartment, but he wouldn’t be needing internet at their gathering. With it just being the three of them, they weren’t betting cash, and kept it to plastic chips. They were all mostly scraping by, and if Ian was going to give either of them money, it would be willingly, not because they got lucky cards and have a good poker face.

            Felicia was settled on the couch when Ian was let into the apartment, and a large pepperoni pizza sat on the coffee table. A bottle of whiskey was set out for them, and Felicia seemed to have already started. Ian’s arrival got Mickey into action, setting up the table for poker while Felicia swung her feet onto his couch and cheered him on.

“Don’t give her candy,” Ian joked. “She’s a monster when she’s hyper.” Ian couldn’t be sure what Mickey had found out about Felicia through trial and error, but he couldn’t help but just assume he knew nothing. Even if he was marrying the girl.

Felicia quickly flung herself from the comfort of the blue sofa, after having just gotten settled in, to chase Ian one lap around the living room. “Oi asshole! You fucking love me. Why else would you still be friends with me.”

Ian’s arms went up to defend himself when she began to wail slaps on him. “I’m just trying to warn your fiancé of who you really are. Don’t want him finding all this out after the wedding.”

“Who says he don’t already know me. Wouldn’t have accepted the proposal if I’d thought something would fuck it up dumbo.” Ian knew that Felicia wouldn’t let just any guy spend the rest of their life with her. She was judgmental, and had even hated Ian their first meeting, but that mostly had to do with him carrying her kicking and screaming.

“Alright you two, quit you’re arguing so we can all hang out. That’s what we’re here for, right? Or should I kick you out and invite my real friends over to play? Hmm?” Mickey’s eyebrows shot up, and Ian and Felicia quickly went back to playing nice, even though they knew his threat was empty. Mickey was still one tough motherfucker.

Ian was incapable of feeling like a third wheel with the couple, as he found himself becoming friends with Mickey as well. He was no longer just Felicia’s fiancé. They hardly even needed the girl around to get them talking anymore, however more of their past was brought up around her. She was grounding for the both of them, made them both feel secure, and she practically forced them to share their deepest darkest secrets. Neither man would have said anything though, if they’d really opposed it. They’d mostly talked about family, even though it wasn’t their favorite topic. They’d bonded over their dead mothers, and Mickey avoided mentioning his father. Ian opened up about Lip’s alcohol problem that was affected a lot by Frank.

“Got a case of pop in the fridge for you Gallagher.” Mickey pulled out one of the three metal folding chairs and went straight to pouring himself a bottle of Jack Daniels. Ian flung himself around the corner, into the kitchen and popped open the fridge, and Ian was soon at the table, cracking open a Root Beer – it was practically alcohol, right? Soon, all three of them were seated at the card table, and had five cards in hand. Felicia was shit at her poker face, so she either folded first, or lost badly. At the casino, she would have planted herself at a slot machine. The game went on with Ian and Mickey dominating, while Felicia continuously complained about her ‘bad luck’.

“I fold!” Felicia huffed for the fifth game in a row. She leaned back in her chair, with her cards now discarded on the table, allowing the men to finish the hand. “I hate you guys! Couldn’t you just let me win once?”

Mickey gave her this totally outraged look, and appeared bound and determined that she wasn’t going to win after that comment. “Not my fault you don’t know how to play. Might’ve let you win eventually if you would’ve quit bitching.” The back and forth was silly and meaningless, and they still gave each other glances that said the other one was their world. Felicia’s begging turned to Ian, but he wasn’t about to give in either. “Used to play for money in my Uncle Vinny’s basement. Everyone was surprised when a thirteen year old left with all their money. A resting bitch face always helps.” Felicia would groan every time she looked at her cards, and then she’d frown until finally folding.

“My brother took me to play poker once,” Ian chipped in. “He’d spent the last week teaching me how to cheat. Not sure how the fuck we got away with it – I was scared shitless. Had shifty eyes and rubbed my hands on my jeans every five seconds.” He’d done some stupid shit for money when he was a kid – a lot of it was finding guys that Lip could take exams for, but sometimes he’d nick a few things off people at school and sell it.

“Damn, aren’t you a hot shot.” They both flipped over their cards, which resulted in Mickey taking hold of the chips. “Wanna compare war stories?” Mickey dealt the next hand, and Felicia looked ready to throw in the towel. “Money was tight back then, still is. Watched my dad cut off a guy’s finger when I was six. He paid up real quick.” Mickey had Ian beat with that tale alone, but this wasn’t really a competition. It didn’t matter who had it worse, because they both knew they had it bad.

“My sister had to cut a toe off a dead body so she could pass as our aunt. I tried to, but almost threw up.” That whole situation was fucked, and it hadn’t quite worked how they’d wanted it to either. The worst thing Ian had seen in that house, was his mother bleeding out on the kitchen floor. It had haunted his dreams for days – fuck, it still did.

“Fuck man. Dad took us to collect money from some guy, and the smell when we entered the house was out of control. Turned out he’d died from an overdose from the drugs he was supposed to be selling for us like two weeks ago. I never even saw the body. Not gonna lie though, I fucking puked outside in the bushes.” Dead bodies were fucking terrifying – Ian hadn’t been able to look at his own mother during the funeral.

“I fold.”

It was once again down to Ian and Mickey. Mickey raised the bet, which was then matched by Ian, resulting in him shoving forward the last of his chips. Neither one had any obvious tells, so until the cards were shown, it was hard to know which one would win. Ian had never been one to get into the body language art of poker – if he had a good hand, his face stayed cold; if he had a bad hand, his face stayed cold. He didn’t have any tricks hidden up his sleeves.

The cards were displayed, and Mickey took a celebratory drink of his whiskey. “I believe this makes me the winner.” Ian was now out of chips, and Mickey had a heaping pile on his side of the table. No matter how unfair Felicia claimed the game to be, she still awarded him with a big fat kiss. “I’ve got the money,” he motioned to the chips. “The girl, and the booze.” Mickey drank straight from the bottle of Jack this time, and swung his free arm around Felicia. “Livin’ the life.”

“I think it’s time to celebrate,” Felicia announced. That of course meant she had to blare music from Mickey’s beat up stereo that was placed carelessly on his stained carpet and dance with him. The music must have been from a CD, obvious from the amount of curse words in the first song that wouldn’t have been allowed on the radio. Ian tried to remain seated, but Felicia wasted no time in pulling him up so she could grind on him. Felicia loved to dance, and they hadn’t done this in a long time.

The intoxicating laughter of his friends reminded him that he wasn’t missing out on the alcohol. It still felt as though it was rushing through his bloodstream as he mumbled along with whatever lyrics he could understand. Felicia yelled right alongside him – in his ear most of the time – and Mickey made a fool of himself trying to make up a dance to the music. He ended up on his ass laughing at himself along with Ian and Felicia. By the time Ian left, he was struggling to stand, and he hadn’t touched a drop of the whiskey. He felt more alive than his meds usually allowed.

~

A new face joined Felicia on her visit to the Fairytale club. She’d finally gotten a day off when Ian was working, and was glad to spend her time accompanying him. This time, there was no gaggle of girls at her table, but rather her relatively tame fiancé. Mickey appeared uncomfortable amongst the flashing lights of the club – he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that enjoyed the club scene. The fact that guys kept hitting on him probably made everything ten times more awkward.

It was a Saturday night, and the place had been swamped since Ian got there at nine. He had his hands full keeping rowdy patrons away from the dancers – it wasn’t pleasant to have some random guy trying to grab your junk. He’d only gotten a chance to wave at Felicia and Mickey when they first sat down. They had come in around ten, settled in at Felicia’s normal table, and sipped down a few fruity drinks. Things like ‘sex on the beach’ weren’t uncommon names for their drinks. It was around midnight when he finally had a moment to settle himself at their table.

“Hard at work?” Felicia winked. “Or hardly working?” The job had a lot of perks for Ian after all. Most of the dancers found his buff appearance, and all black attire attractive, and after a shift of ‘protecting’ them, he usually got a reward out of one of them.

“Got my eye on Andy.” Ian pointed a finger in the direction of a blonde guy across the dance floor, gyrating his hips for a group of middle aged men. The guy seemed to eye Ian up every chance he got, and made a point of winking at him when he shooed the handsy men away. The redhead was glad to reciprocate the silent flirting. “He started like two weeks ago. Been giving me the look for a while now.” The guy had to be about nineteen – the club had gotten smart and stopped hiring underage boys sometime after Ian worked there at seventeen. Ian couldn’t say he’d fucked all the guys there, and was actually pretty selective. There were a few guys he considered his regulars, and they’d spend time together outside of sex. He was in no place for a serious relationship, and he wouldn’t go so far as to call any of his coworkers his friends.

“He’s a cute one,” Felicia agreed. Mickey seemed unphased by his fiancé checking out other men – there was no way a gay guy would sweep her off her feet, and she seemed pretty in love right now. “When are you gonna find yourself a real man Ian Gallagher? One that we can go on double dates with.”

“Or I can just keep tagging along on your dates,” Ian shrugged. He really had no problem spending time with the couple, even found their relationship quite admirable. It was definitely the kind of relationship he’d always dreamed of.

“Don’t want to tie yourself down,” Mickey piped in. He had a glass of whiskey in front of him, and an arm around Felicia as always. “Then you might get stuck with some crazy bitch like me.” Felicia managed to ignore his comment in favor of eyeing a dancer on the podium a few feet away from them – if she’d actually heard him, he probably would’ve gotten punched.

“More like they’ll get stuck with me.” Jacob had said he’d been a burden, and Ian believed him. “I’m the crazy one,” he regretfully admitted. He wouldn’t dare go into any more detail than that.

“Doubt it man. Just gotta find the right person. Someone that doesn’t give a shit about your flaws.” Even Felicia never consoled him like that – her solution was to shove him at another man each time things didn’t work out, and tactics weren’t very successful. “Never saw myself settling down. But then I found Felicia, and she didn’t care that I’ve got a couple felonies. Even loves the stupid tattoos I got in juvie when I was fucking fourteen.” Ian didn’t think being in prison was a big deal, hell, he’d almost ended up there himself after going AWOL from basic training. Ian had learned along the way that often time’s people had things going on in their lives that no one else was meant to understand. “You just gotta be patient.”

Ian had never been patient with relationships. Jacob, however, had made him feel unlovable, so Ian stayed away, not for his own well-being, but because he believed no guy would genuinely like him. The best he’d get was what he had with Jacob. Mickey was flipping all those thoughts around – one speech from a friend definitely wouldn’t fix it all. At least Ian had a little more hope that there was someone out there that would be willing to put up with him, even if he never managed to find the guy

“Listen to Mickey, he gives great advice.” Felicia had only zoned back into their conversation when her name had been mentioned, but she still kept half her attention on Eric, her favorite dancer. “I will find you the love of your life Ian, just you wait.” Felicia always had shitty picks for him, and simply a bad taste in men – Mickey was the only good man she’d ever found, and she chose him for herself.

Ian’s ears perked up when yells that consisted mostly of name calling erupted. The sound was distant, but it was his job to catch wind of any mischief. Fights were no rare occurrence, and this was only the fifth fight he’d have to break up for the night. He managed to spot the scene – his eyes fell deep into the flashing purple and green lights, and dozens of bodies, to find two sets of hands grasping at a displeased dancer. Of course it was Andy, and Ian’s acts of heroics would only make the guy more eager to get fucked by the bouncer. “Gotta go,” he rushed out to his friends. He was on his feet in seconds, pushing through the crowd alongside another bouncer to help break things up.


End file.
